


An Inglorious Vassal

by saraeyan



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Auguste Lives, Damen is a sweetheart but he's always a sweetheart so what did you expect, F/M, Gets pretty sexually explicit later on hoo haah, Happy Ending, Laurent is still a cast iron bitch, M/M, Nikandros has an unrequited crush on Damen, Religious angle? That I put in because I thought it was fitting for the supposed time period, erasmus and laurent become friends, kastor is a crazy anarchist who made his own sect of the religion and convinced jokaste to join him, laurent is basically a tsundere, nicaise is laurent's apprentice from Vere, possibly some stuff about jokaste and kastor later on, regent is still a shit face, this is my first fanfic don't judge me too hard okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-29 22:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraeyan/pseuds/saraeyan
Summary: In which Laurent, Prince of Vere, is forced into slavery after his uncle decides to become king. However, he is not sentenced to become any slave, he is sentenced to become the slave of Prince Damianos of Akelios, sworn enemy and supposed killer of Auguste. Not only this, but he is forced to observe Akelios' insane and oppressive religious cult.However, Laurent is extremely intelligent, and will find a way out of this. Yes, yes he will. Nothing will get in his way.Except, possibly, Prince Damianos himself. Who is unfairly attractive, if anyone else has anything to say about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, it is I! Well, you don't know who I am, so I'm not sure why that first sentence would bear any significance whatsoever.  
> Anyway, this is my first fanfic. Not on here, well yes I'm new here, but in general. I've only ever written my own original works (which for now I am going to keep private), and this is the first time I've ever dabbled in the art of fanfic and AU's. I recently read Captive Prince a few months ago, and I have been embarrassingly addicted to reading fanfiction of it on here. So, I decided to write my own. It's essentially a role reversal AU, but not quite. There are some major differences that you can probably already gage through the first chapter, and will continue to as it goes on. I know it's kind of short-ish, but I wanted to just have the first chapter get a point across. I don't know if anyone will view this fanfic, but if they do, I'll probably get the second one out relatively soon, permitting my AP English test does not consume my soul. Anyway, all and any feedback is encouraged. And also, let me tell you that I am the #1 member of the Cast Iron Bitch fanclub. If anyone wants to join me, please, we shall make our own cult.
> 
> Thanks!  
> \- Rachel

He was chained in glorious shackles.

The highest quality, pristine gold with rings of sapphires on it. Sapphires were, of course, the most coveted of Akelion jewels. But no suffocating quantity of jewels would aid Laurent in the pain whirring in his chest. 

He let out another piercing scream, but no one could hear him. Or if they could, they did not care. 

“Shit,” He grumbled, fumbling against the bars in whatever the hell those rags on his body were. Why did the punishment have to be this, of all things? Couldn’t he have been forced into working as a servant, or maybe on a farm? Couldn’t they have sentenced him to… well, he didn’t know. Anything would be better than this, even prostitution. But no. His uncle would not stand for any punishment other than the one that was the most excruciatingly humiliating. The bed slave of Damianos of Akielos. Hah! Him, Prince Laurent of Vere, the slave of his sworn enemy’s spawn? A preposterous idea, one that his uncle was surely joking about when he mentioned it. But oh, no, he was not. And now he was here, lying in a cold, rusty cage, bound by shackles full of repulsively Akelion jewels. 

It was not as if he had never experienced imprisonment before. However, never had his imprisonment been so… literal. Everything was so dark and cold, he hadn’t eaten in what seemed to be an entire lifetime, and he could've sworn there were rats scurrying about somewhere behind him. And really, did they need to use such disgusting tile on the floor? What was with Akelions and horrible taste in interior design? 

Before Laurent could further ponder the horrid tiles however, a guard walked in. 

“Oh, now what do we have here?” The guard sneered. “Surely you could struggle more, make some cute whimpery noises? It’ll be practice for when you’re in Damianos’s bed.” 

Laurent glanced up. The man smirking at him was burly and unkempt, with a scruffy beard and a beer belly so large it seemed he would explode any moment. Repulsive. How did someone so unbelievably unattractive obtain such a ginormous ego? Laurent simply scowled at the guard, and said nothing more. 

“Aw, not going to say anything, pretty boy?” The guard laughed. It sounded like a dying kitten’s cry.

Laurent grated his teeth, but did not reply. No man of his demeanor deserved to be spoken to. 

“Well, okay then.” The guard sighed, approaching Laurent. “Either way, talking or not, I have to take you to the court now.” He unlocked Laurent’s cage. “It’s a shame I’m not allowed to touch you. You look like a lot of fun in bed.”

Laurent considered kicking some dust at the guard’s face and making a run for it, but, remembering the shackles, decided against it. Curse the damn shackles. One day he would hit them right against Damianos’s head. Maybe he’d be lucky and the impact would be enough to kill him. But that would have to wait, at least until he found a way out of the shackles. 

The guard yanked on the chain around Laurent’s neck. “Stand up.” 

Reluctantly, Laurent obliged, cursing about seventeen different gods in the process. The guard pulled on the set of chains around his wrists, forcing him forward. He dragged him across the remainder of the room and into a corridor, which was as horribly designed as the room he was just in. 

“Just straight down here is the court,” The guard snarked.

The corridor proved to be quite endless, however. One long lane of terror, that gave Laurent plenty of time to scowl at every man and woman who passed him by. Maybe if he acted enough like a menstruating cat, they’d let him be a family pet instead of a sex slave.

Sadly, the corridor was not quite endless, and eventually they made their way to a set of double doors that were such an ugly shade of green it looked like someone barfed on them. 

“Looks like we’re here,” chuckled the guard, opening the doors and throwing Laurent inside. “Call for me if you change your mind about hooking up. I could use those pretty lips of yours sometime.”

Laurent considered actually responding this time, but the doors slammed behind him before he could do so. Instead, he was forced to look ahead of him, at the…

Woah…

Was that Prince Damianos? He hadn’t recalled him looking so… attractive, at the battle of Marlas’ treaty signing years ago. He had really... grown into his form, hadn’t he? It did not help that his clothes were so revealing. Laurent could practically make out the shape of his…

Wait! What the hell was he doing? This was Prince Damianos of Akielos! Akielos, for the gods’ sake! He would not stoop down to such a heathenous level simply because the man before him had high cheekbones and beautiful curls and-

“Ehem, Loure? We are speaking to you.” 

Laurent was forced out of his daydream by the sound of “Loure”. Uncle had informed him that that would be his new name, however, he had not truly internalized it until just then. It was such a disgusting name, nothing like the beautiful “Laurent”. A disgusting name, to match disgusting rags in a disgusting castle in a disgusting kingdom ruled by a disgusting prince.

The man who had spoken to Laurent was sitting on the left of Prince Damianos. He had the same sort of complexion- olive skin, dark eyes with heavy lashes, and hair that rung into tight curls. But he was not nearly as attractive. 

 

“What?” Laurent sniped, glaring up at the man. 

The man scowled at Laurent. “You will not speak to your superiors in such a tone.”

“Oh, are you my superior? I wouldn’t know.”

“I am Lord Nikandros, chief of the Akelion court, and you will treat me with utter respect. As you will, of course, to everyone here. Do you understand?”

Laurent simply shrugged at the man, raising an eyebrow.

“Why you little-”

“Nikandros, please.” 

Laurent looked up at the sound of that voice, which apparently belonged to Damianos. It was deep and warm, like the honey bread Auguste used to make for him. Wait, what? Shit, no. That was not what he-

“But he’s being a little twat!” Lord Nikandros insisted.

“He’s probably scared.” Damianos replied, glancing worriedly over at Laurent. “Can you imagine being shipped off to another country to be someone’s slave?”

“Well why can’t he act scared and cute then, like that slave we rescued, Erasmus? He was always-”

“Nikandros. Please. As I have been informed, he is only here as a casualty of the last uprising in Delpha. He’s done nothing wrong. Please, treat him with some decency.”

“Fine, fine, whatever you say.” Nikandros’s gaze returned to Laurent. “You, Loure, have been chosen due to your… specific physical attributes, to be Prince Damianos’s bed slave. His former fiance, Jokaste, ran off with his anarchist brother Kastor to who knows where, and now he is quite lonely. You will be required, not only for your physical services, but to keep him company as well. In addition to being a bed slave, we will also train you to become a monk. Do you understand?”

“Fine.” Laurent stated, ending the word with venom. Internally, he shuddered. Akelios and Vere, apart from simply fighting over land, had been mortal enemies primarily due to their opposing practices of religion. Becoming a monk of Akelios meant, essentially, changing the religious values that he had kept sacred for so very long. An even greater punishment than a position as his enemy’s bed slave.

Oh, his uncle was quite skilled at cruelty, now, wasn’t he? 

“Good.” Nikandros replied. “Now that you understand your place in this castle,  
which is not as bad as you may think, I will now proceed with the list of rules that you will need to follow as a slave of this castle. Firstly, you must…”

But Laurent did not pay attention after that. He tilted his head slightly, and in doing so, noticed Prince Damianos staring right at him. What? Was there something so intolerable about him that he could not even suffice as a bed slave? But… no. It was not a stare of hatred. Curiousity? Likely. Compassion? Maybe. Attraction? Well, possibly… 

Laurent felt his heart flutter at the notion, and forced his eyes away from Damianos’s. He would not let himself be swayed by the beauty of his enemy. It was not a possibility. He would oblige until he found a way out, and then leave without a single regret. No unbearably handsome prince would stop him from completing his task. He always completed his tasks. Early, even.

“...And you will wear your shackles at all times. Do you understand, Loure?”

Laurent turned his head at Nikandros, and nodded, still too distracted to devise a witty response. 

“Good, good alright. Now that that is taken care of, one of our maids will take you to your new quarters. We have more important business to take care of now.”

“Uh huh,” Laurent murmured, half listening. A busty, brawny woman who was practically two of Laurent grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the door. 

However, before they got there, or before Laurent could even mentally whine about the lady’s grip, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and peered up at the man towering over him.

“I’m sorry about my friend’s remarks.” Prince Damianos began. “I really am quite lonely, and I am happy to have chosen you.” He smiled, his teeth distractingly white, and held out his hand.

Laurent did not take it, and simply stared at Damianos curiously. It did not seem to deter him, however, as his smile was still present.

“I look forward to seeing you later,” Damianos continued. “Oh, and by the way, you are free to call me Damen. It is what all of my friends call me.”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “But I am not your friend, Damen. I am your slave.” He then proceeded to yank at his chain, forcing his maid to move him along. 

He turned away from Damen, and looked straight ahead. He would not think about the rapid beating of his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look chapter two, ahah  
> Wow, almost 300 hits? I know that's not a lot but that's a lot for me! Also, the comments were so sweet! Thank you so much, it really means a lot that you guys like what I have written. I don't have much to say otherwise, other than that I may be starting another fanfic soon (possibly for song of achilles, but I'm not sure yet.) But I'm not gonna stop this one or anything! I have another idea for another capri fic as well, although I don't know if it's any good.  
> Anyway, thank you, and enjoy!

The area past the court was not even slightly more attractive. In fact, the addition of frightened slaves in barely-there chitons made the sight even less appealing to Laurent. If that was somehow possible. Laurent did not know why, but there had been a small part of him, a tiny sliver, that hoped that somewhere in this castle people would have even an ounce of dignity. His hope was quickly crushed, of course. It seemed Akelions did not contain dignity. Laurent wondered if they even had a word for such a thing. 

“You are handsome and strong.” The maid dragging him began, as they wound around various corridors. She had a very distinctive accent, not quite able to pronounce the soft liquidity of Akelion. Perhaps, she was Vaskian. “You will make good slave. Dress pretty, show off your body.”

Laurent snorted. “It will be difficult to dress “pretty” with only Akelion rags as options.”

“No worry, child. You will be dressed in fine clothes. They will bathe your hair in silky soap and polish your muscles. You will look beautiful.”

“Stupendous.”

“You no want to be with handsome prince? It is great honor.”

Laurent paused. Was this woman insane? How did people consider the role of “bed slave” as honorable? Laurent recalled some pets in Vere who considered their position honorable, but they were pets, not slaves. Their families were paid for their services, and they were given lessons in education.

“Oh no, I absolutely cannot wait for Prince Damianos to fuck me senseless.” 

“Ah! Good boy!”

Laurent scowled at the maid, but when she seemed to remain pleased with herself, he gave up and proceeded to look around. They seemed to be passing a cafeteria, if one could call it that. Various young men and women were sitting in clusters on one large rug. They were chatting about, eating food that smelled so strongly of spice that Laurent could sense their future health conditions. 

“Smells good, yes?” The maid inquired, happily rubbing her generous belly.

“Oh, indeed. I am quite partial to cat piss.”

Laurent waited for the maid to finally snap at him, but before he could do so, he heard someone whistle at him.

Turning around, Laurent’s gaze fell on a man staring at him. He looked vaguely of Patran descent, and had a slight beard around his chin. It seemed he had been the one to whistle.

“What?” Laurent demanded. 

The man smirked at him, leaning against a pillar. “Wow, you look even better from the front.” 

Laurent flushed angrily and crossed his arms. Was everyone there absurdly perverted? He walked away from the maid and walked towards the perverted imbecile.

“Is there a problem?” he snapped.

“No, not at all.” The pervert began, slowly approaching him. “In fact, I see no problems with you at all. You’re quite attractive, if I do say so myself.”

“Well, at least you have good taste.”

The disgusting, repulsive pervert chuckled, and smiled down at Laurent. Laurent wondered if he was a janitor. He certainly was trashy enough to be one. “I’m Torveld. What’s your name, cutie?”

“Not interested and entirely unattracted.” 

“Nice name, sir ‘not interested and entirely unattracted’. Want to come sit with us?” Torveld gestured towards a group of shady looking men.

“I’d prefer to take snake venom up my ass, but we each have our own tastes, don’t we?”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I have no intention of hurting you.” Torveld reached forward, touching Laurent’s shoulder.   
When he felt the sensation, Laurent swore he was going to vomit. Insults, he handled with an iron first. Touches without permission, however...

Laurent etched back, scowling. “Get away from me, you repulsive street rat.” He snarled running along to the maid. Dragging the maid further along, he wondered how Torveld had taken his brutish comment. Although, did it really matter? He was just a lowly pervert, after all.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” The maid muttered, once they were far away from the cafeteria. 

Laurent simply chuckled in response. What did she know? She was just like Torveld, a sick dog of the Akelion Cult, with no conscious of their own. Laurent recalled Auguste telling him something like that once. “Akelions don’t have souls, they’re walking drones. It’s punishment for going against the word of our lords.”

Laurent didn’t quite believe every tall tale Auguste told him. After all, it wasn’t as if he believed in souls, that was fool’s rubbish. But the essential idea surrounding what Auguste said was correct. In fact, Auguste had never been wrong about anything. He was perfect in the purest meaning of the word. Laurent had never met someone who was so unexpectedly altruistic. He tried to understand Auguste, he had tried to understand Auguste, but he never quite could. He wanted to be just like him, but then…

“We’re here.” At this point, the maid no longer appeared interested in guiding Laurent, and before he had much say, pushed him inside. She slammed the door behind him, just as the guard had. What was with Akelions and a complete lack of manners? Honestly.

Laurent glanced about the room he had just been shoved in. It seemed like some form of spa, or vanity room, with pale lavender walls and an excessive quantity of ottomans. There was a faint hint of perfume, jasmine or something of the like, that seemed unnecessarily expensive and grotesque. Laurent to crinkled his nose, he had always hated any sort of unnatural scent.

“Oh...h-hello…” muttered a frail voice. Laurent turned towards the noise, he had not noticed anyone in the room before. The voice had apparently belonged to a small boy curled up in the corner of the room. “You must be the new… lover.” The boy trailed off, obviously uncomfortable and unsure of what to say. He had dirty blonde ringlets and an extraordinarily sweet face. Even wearing nothing but a slightly dirtied white sheet, he was no doubt beautiful. He reminded of Laurent faintly of himself, when he was younger.

“Slave.” Laurent stated. 

“Huh?”

“I am a slave. A lover would have come here voluntarily, and not be treated like an object to play with. You know, like how humans should be treated.” 

“Um, I don’t quite follow.”

It then occurred to Laurent that the boy likely did not understand some of the complex words that Laurent had just said. Most slaves were not former princes, after all. Laurent considered chastising the boy for his stupidity, but decided against it. Even as an Akelion, the boy did not seem tainted or cruel yet. He was just a poor child who did not understand the reality of the world.

“Yes, I have been brought here to be Prince Damianos’s lover.” Laurent replied finally, walking towards the boy and crouching down next to him.

“Oh, well they did a very good job choosing you! You’re, quite… q-quite handsome.” The youth blushed slightly and averted Laurent’s gaze. He seemed the type to be easily flustered. Once upon a time Laurent had been the same.

Laurent grinned slightly. “Why, thank you. What is your name?”

The boy glanced back at Laurent. “Erasmus. I had a last name once, but I do not remember what it is.”

“Well you have a lovely name, Erasmus, even if it lacks a last one.”

Erasmus blushed again. “T-thank you, sir. What is your name?”

“I am Lau...Loure.” 

“You have a nice name too, Loure!” Erasmus began to smile slightly, little white teeth shining through. Laurent could not decide if Erasmus’s sheer innocence was adorable or repulsive.

“Thank you. Now, why are you here, Erasmus?”

“Well.... I am.... I am a slave like you. I mostly do chores, but sometimes I dance for the court. Normally it would be lunchtime now, but I don’t really want to be around the others…”

Laurent raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“They’re not… they don’t really like me, L-loure. They call me a…”

“A?”

“I… nevermind. It is an inappropriate word.”

Laurent thought of some of his uncle’s old friends. They would often assault him whenever he made an appearance, calling him a “slut”, or a “faggot.” Words that made little sense considering how many of those men committed homoerotic acts. “Would you like me to have a talk with them?”

Erasmus’s eyes widened. “W-what! N-no! Please don’t! They will bother me more if you do that.”

“Are you sure you do not want me to at least write them a nasty letter? I can unleash my serpently wrath onto them.”

 

That earned a slight giggle from Erasmus. “I’m sure.”

“Well, okay then.”

Erasmus leaned back against the wall, which was barren and lacking any sort of intriguing decor whatsoever. “Well, I have heard rumors that you will visit Prince Diamanos’ quarters tonight.” 

“Oh, will I?” Laurent twitched at the thought.

“Y-yes… ah… does that not please you?”

“Not particularly.”

Erasmus nodded his head. “I, well I know how that feels. I have some games if you want to take your mind off of it.”

Laurent turned towards Erasmus, pursing his lips. “And what would they be?’

“There’s a small board of chess in the closet.”

Laurent’s lips formed into a grin. “Ah, that sounds marvelous.”

\-----

Damen stared out of the window, into the vast Akelion mountains that stretched endlessly across the horizon. He had always been fond of the mountains. They were a sign of how unique and beautifully irregular Akelios was. 

“Really, Damen. You’re going to space out, now?” Damen turned around to see Nikandros, nervously biting his nails and glaring right at him. 

“I really don’t see the immediacy of your predicament.” Damen remarked nonchalantly. 

Nikandros groaned. “It is important that I figure out the roots of your fetish for blonde hair and blue eyes!”

“It is not a fetish, Nik. It’s simply a preference. I’ve been with plenty of men and women who had other coloring, remember?”

“Ah, yes, that one black haired slut from Vask that you fucked one night when you were drunk enough to pass out.”

Damen sighed. “Nik, I really don’t see how this is relevant to anything at all. Didn’t you summon me here to talk about politics?”

“This is politics, Damen!”

Damen let out a small chuckle. “How?”

“Everyone is anxious to know who you bed. You need to find another fiance. I don’t care if it’s a he or she, dark skinned or light, as long as they’re over 16 and not Veretian. Everyone and their mom is going to think you’re lingering on Jokaste with this new bed slave. Especially considering how he has the same DAMN coloring as her! In fact, I’m pretty sure I saw same evil shimmer in his eyes that Jokaste had!”

“I want to save him, Nikandros.”

Nikandros scoffed, folding his arms against his chest. “Save him? I didn’t realize saving involved getting your dick sucked.”

“Nikandros, please. I have not found anyone else yet whom I wish to marry, and when I heard word that-”

“When you heard word that a thin, blonde haired blue eyed man was weak and free to take advantage of, you got a boner! Every time someone remotely turns you on, you assume you are in love with them!”

“Nikandros.”

“What.” Nikandros spat, chugging down a glass of wine.

“This is my life and my decision. You are my best friend, but you are not my father.”

Nikandros lowered his shoulders in concession. “Fine. But, I just don’t…”

“Don’t want?”

“I just don’t get why you don’t just… find someone already.”

“I have found someone. I was already enamored by his description, and when I saw him today I....”

“I mean, someone of status, Damen.”  
“There’s no law that requires me to court only those of status.”

Nikandros clenched his fists. “Oh, so now you intend to court him!”

Damen stood up and walked over to Nikandros. “Nik, I understand your concern, but this is not about you. I am awfully tired right now, and, considering you don’t seem to have anything else to talk about, am going to take a nap. I’m not mad at you by any means, but I do think you should re-prioritize your values. Such as, I don’t know, worrying about poverty instead of who I am currently with. Do you understand?” Damen lightly patted Nikandros’s shoulder.

Nikandros averted Damen’s gaze and chugged a second glass of wine. “Fine, whatever. Go to sleep. You’ll… you’ll be at dinner tonight, right?”

Damen smiled down at Nikandros. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be? We still haven’t finished our third round of ‘21 bottles of beer on the wall.!” With that, Damen walked off into the hall on the left, thinking of dinner and food and how gorgeous the new slave Loure was. 

Nikandros remained in the room. He poured himself another glass and felt his shoulder where Damen had touched it moments before. Cursing himself, he swallowed the glass whole and stared bleary-eyed at the wall. It was not that he desired Damen’s affections, per se. Well, it was, but then it wasn’t. It was obvious Damen viewed him as a brother and that was fine. But it was quite difficult to live vicariously through Damen’s lover when they were such a… foul little git. How old was Loure, 19? 20? He wasn’t a child, but he seemed to young for Damen. Honestly, what was Damen thinking?

“My lord,” a small voice muttered. Nikandros turned around to see a guard gesturing at him. He thought his name may have been Jord.

“Yes, Jord?” Nikandros responded.

“They need your assistance down at the court again. Apparently some crazy old women claims to be god....again.”

Nikandros sighed and got up, slightly dizzy from the alcohol. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Of course, sir.” Jord replied, backing out of the room and leaving Nikandros to himself again. 

Not a minute later, Nikandros finally parted with his alcohol, and followed Jord down to the court.

\------

“Is it so much to ask to at least have some personal space?” Laurent scowled at the guard pulling his chains.

“It’s against the rules.” The guard answered monotonously.

“Fine, whatever.” Laurent muttered. He was slightly displeased with how unreactive this guard was. The perverted one was more fun, at least he gave Laurent someone to make sinister faces at. 

In what was far too short, the path to Prince Damen’s room ended, and Laurent was met another pair of puke-colored double doors. 

“You’re here.” The guard stated, knocking on Damen’s door. When Damen finally opened his doors, he took Laurent’s reigns, and the guard walked off.

Laurent glanced up at Damen. He looked especially attractive, with his hair post-shower wet and his face flushed and red. 

Fuck, not again. Laurent refused to keep thinking such lewd thoughts about Damen. How could he? He was his enemy, his arch nemesis. 

“Hello, Loure.” Damen grinned down at Laurent, holding out his hand as he had that previous morning.

Laurent simply rolled his eyes and spat in Damen’s general direction. 

Damen laughed softly, appearing more amused than put off. “Well, we can always work on your attitude.” 

Laurent bit his tongue. Work on his attitude? There was nothing wrong with Laurent’s attitude!  
Before Laurent could continue his mental ramblings, Damen pulled him inside, and sat him on a rug. 

“I am not going to suck your dick.” Laurent growled, attempting to pull away from Damen.

Damen raised an eyebrow, but did not, yet again, seem particularly perturbed. “I was not going to have you do so.”

“Oh, so were you going to fuck me then?”

“No, I do not want to do anything to you that you do not want me to do.”

“What’s the point of having me as your bed slave then?”

“I want to help you. I heard of you, how you were injured in the uprising, how you were scavenging for food and refused to let anyone help you. I felt so sorry for you… I wanted to help you. They wanted to bring you as a lover for me. I admit, I also became quite attracted to you upon seeing your face, but it is not my intention to force you into anything sexual.”

Laurent considered how he wouldn’t have minded forcing Damen into sexual things, however. Then, when he realized what he had thought, he mentally stabbed himself.

“Then why are you chaining me up and treating me like a slave?”

Damen bit his lip, which caused a certain area of Laurent’s midsection to twitch. Laurent internally stabbed himself twice as hard. “You would leave me, otherwise, or plot an escape. I know you are originally from Vere, and Vere and Akelios are on quite… unpleasant terms right now. Plus, it is generally tradition for an Akelion leader to keep one or two slaves.”

“Yes, of course. Akelions are known for their kind, humanitarian traditions.” Laurent smirked.

“Veretians are not any better.” Damen began. “Not necessarily any worse, but no better. They have their own forms of subjugating inequality.”

Laurent scoffed. “Huh, an Akelion prince who does loathe Vere? This is an anomaly! I must say, I am quite impressed. You must have had quite the moral turn-around after murdering my dear Prince Auguste.”

Damen’s face contorted slightly, but he remained calm. “You are...quite verbose, Loure. Were you not always impoverished?”

Laurent shivered slightly, and pulled further away from Damen. When that did not feel far enough, he stood up, consequently forcing Damen up as well. Was Damen onto him? He did not know, but he did not wish to risk it with his eloquent speaking habits. It was best he spoke little from now on. 

“I do not want to talk anymore, Prince Damen.” Laurent stated cooly. “I don’t feel well, and I feel uncomfortable being here with you alone. Can you call up a guard, please, your highness?” Laurent turned away from Damen, forcing his eyes to stare at the wall. It was a shame that Damen was much more entertaining to look at than the wall. 

Damen let out a disgruntled sigh, and placed a hand on Laurent’s shoulder. “Loure, please. I don’t want to treat you as a slave, but...”

“I said, I do not wish to speak.”

Damen walked closer to Laurent, and attempted to touch his hair. Before he could, however, Laurent swatted his hand away. 

Damen crinkled his eyebrows. “What is so unappealing about me that you will not even speak to me?” 

Laurent laughed. “What? So vain that you cannot comprehend that someone may dislike you?”

“Loure, please?”

“No.”

Damen sighed. “Fine. I did not want it to come down to this, but I guess I will have to enforce some physical action over you.”

Laurent turned around. “What?”

However, that was all Laurent managed to get out. Because before he could utter another word, Damen grabbed Laurent and smashed his lips against his mouth.

\-------

The woman snickered at the oracle ball. “Well, this is ironic,” she mused, tracing her finger over the ball’s imagery. 

“What is?” A man inquired, approaching her.

“See for yourself.”

 

“Ah,” The man said, once he had seen what she had seen. “I see.”

“Hilarious, isn’t it?” The woman cackled. “A prince sold as a slave to the prince of a rivalry country?” 

“If you say so. I think it’s kind of boring, to be honest.” The man shrugged.

“Well, it won’t matter for long.” The woman continued, “Because soon our god will return, and little Laurent will be our first sacrifice.”


End file.
